Companion
by LDP88
Summary: "You want to make me cry, don't you?" A five part story about reincarnation, love, magic and control. S/r M...very M


**COMPANION**  
_~A Short Story in Five Parts~_

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_Summary_

"You want to make me cry, don't you?"  
A story about reincarnation, love, and control.  
S/r ~ (M)

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Part I.  
_[They Met] in the Green Room_

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_Characters_

...**Main**...  
~Peter J. Horn  
~Elaine (Lucy) Smith  
~John E. Horn Sr. (Big Man)  
~John E. Horn Jr. (Junior)  
~Darling Rogers  
~Lilian Horn..._deceased_

...**Sub**...  
~Katy Hart  
~Mr. Lester Smith  
~Mrs. Lesley Smith  
~Lucy Caruthers..._deceased_  
~Lucas Caruthers..._deceased_  
~Elliot Caruthers..._deceased_  
~Eli Caruthers..._deceased_

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Part I.  
_[They Met] in the Green Room_

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They met that day in the Green Room, but this story begins fifteen minutes before that. Actually, to tell the truth, the "real" story begins nineteen years before that in the back of a mint green Chevrolet.

But who's really counting?

_15 minutes earlier..._

Peter Horn had just turned nineteen years old and was preparing to tell his father that he was completely unfit for The University. He adjusted his favorite green tie, the one with the yellow horses, for the last time and nodded to his reflection in the mirror.

It was 7:30 and the cocktails had just been served.

His step-mother, Darling Rogers (she hadn't taken his father's name), his younger brother, John Horn Jr., and his father John Horn Sr. were all downstairs. His mother was dead. Everyone from the Big Bank of Downtown was downstairs too.

Nobody called John Horn Sr. by "John" or "Mr. Horn" or even by his middle name "Edwin". Everyone called him the Big Man. It was a name that had stuck with him for the past nineteen years. His first wife, Lilian Horn, maiden name: Sampson, from The Town Down the Way, had given it to him. Even in his forties, John Horn Sr. was a sturdy, 6'4, 216 pound man-of-action.

Peter's younger brother, John Horn Jr., was the same as their father, but shorter. Of course he would grow; he was only ten. But he was already interested in climbing, running, hitting, jumping, and throwing.

Junior did have some flaws too. He had six fears: darkness, ovens, big dogs, windows, knives, and lakes. He also had a scar, seven stitches, both sides, on his right hand. Peter knew his brother was in love with the girl who lived across the street. Her name was Katy Hart. She liked to ride her bike. That was all Peter knew about her.

Junior's mother was a former beauty queen from The Town Across the Way. Usually the people from The Town Across the Way and the people from Downtown didn't mix, but John Horn Sr. had fallen in love.

Everyone thought it was "a damn shame" that he'd had to leave his first wife, Lilian, but that's what happened.

Peter laced up his shoes and pulled up his socks. They were black and his suit pants were grey.

He didn't want to go, but he had to explain.

Once downstairs, Peter began to mingle. All the men from the bank were shaking his hand and congratulating him.

"The Big Man must be so proud of you," they all said.

"Well done, kiddo. Well done," they all said.

"You should come round sometime and we'll talk about Your Future," they all said.

Peter purposefully, carefully stepped on Mr. Martin, Mr. Clifton, Mr. Carl, Mr. Johnson, and Mr. Taylor's wives' feet in a private act of rebellion. He didn't want to go back to The University, but he didn't want to stay here either.

When he entered the main room, he saw his father ruffle his brother's hair. Ducking behind the tall Mrs. Brown, he adjusted his tie. He remembered when his mother was still alive and Mrs. Brown would come to visit. Lilian had equated the woman to a redwood more than once.

A drink.

Peter approached the bar and knocked on the wood.

"A Brandy on the Rocks, please," he said.

"Thank you," he said two minutes later.

Holding the drink in his right hand, he raised it to his mouth, sipped, and decided to face his father after the party was over. It would be better to break the news then.

He sipped his drink again, smacked his lips, and made another decision. He would avoid Mrs. Tracy, the widow, who was approaching him now and head to the Green Room. It would be safe there.

Out of the house's two kitchens , fifteen bedrooms, seventeen bathrooms, one parlor, two dining rooms, two sitting rooms, zero family rooms, one (abandoned) attic, one (scary) basement and one library, the Green Room was Peter's favorite. In his opinion, it was better even than his bedroom.

His mother, when she'd been alive, had picked the wallpaper herself.

Peter walked down the hall, on his way shaking hands with four men and stepping on three of their wives' toes. He couldn't find the fourth. Finally he made it to the Green Room at 7:45 on the dot.

He opened the door.

"Who's there?" asked a voice.

Peter stepped into the room and to his surprise, he saw a young girl he did not know sitting on a pile of coats.

"Why are you sitting on the coats?" he asked.

The girl looked at him for a long time and said nothing. Peter didn't know what to do. He didn't want to stay in the room with Company, but he wanted to join the party even less. He took a sip of his drink and decided to do nothing. Leaning against the door panel, he put his hand in his pocket and observed the girl sitting on the coats.

She was twelve. Maybe thirteen. Maybe fourteen. It would have been a stretch to say she was fifteen. Her hair was brown, shoulder length, and pinned back with a white, velvet headband. She was wearing a short, pink, straight, cotton dress. It had three, white collar buttons. They were shaped like flowers.

Sitting as she was on a pile of wool coats, her hem rose to just above her mid-thigh. Her white socks were pulled up to just under her knees and her left shoe lace was undone. She was wearing a thin, gold bracelet. It had slid half way up her arm and a little moon charm dangled from one of the links. Her ears were not pierced.

"What's your name?" Peter asked.

The girl looked up at him again, but didn't answer. Peter thought her smile would probably be nice, but he didn't want to be disappointed if it was ugly.

He sipped his drink and decided to sit next to the girl. No one would bother them in the Green Room.

"I asked you what your name is." He wanted the girl to understand he wasn't asking.

At his tone, she turned her head and smiled, but still gave him no answer. Instead, she stood primly and left the Green Room. Peter looked at the open doorway for a long time.

He was deeply unhappy, and he wasn't sure if it was with the party, The University, the girl, or something he couldn't remember.

The girl came back into the room holding a Whiskey Sour in her left hand. Standing before him in her little pink dress with the white buttons, her white, velvet headband, and knee high socks, she lifted his Brandy on the Rocks and clinked his glass.

"Chin chin," she said and took a gulp.

Her face contorted and her cheeks went pink.

"How did you get that?" Peter asked.

"To answer your question, my name is Elaine Smith, but you should never call me Elaine. I hate that name. Call me Lucy," she said and took another gulp of her drink.

Peter watched with interest as her face contorted again.

"Lucy?"

"Yes."

"Not Elaine?"

"Never," Lucy replied with utter seriousness.

There was a long silence, and then Peter said, "Okay."

Lucy, not Elaine, took a seat next to Peter. They sat in silence for quite some time before she spoke again, "I'm thirteen if you want to know."

Peter didn't say anything at first. He thought about it for a moment and then replied, "I thought you might be eleven." He was lying.

Lucy looked at him as if he were crazy. It made him smile.

"You're small for your age," he added, not trying to make up for his previous comment. Lucy seemed to take it as an apology anyway.

"That's okay," she said. "People always think I'm younger than I am. My mom was fresh faced too. She was in The Pictures."

"Who was she? I don't recall any Smiths in The Pictures. They're all Producers aren't they?" Peter replied, taking another sip of his Brandy on the Rocks.

"She wasn't a Smith. She was a Caruthers. Her name was Lucy Caruthers and she was a big star. She killed herself when I was three by jumping off the Big Bridge Downtown."

Peter adjusted his tie and felt no need to respond. He waited for Lucy to continue.

Lucy was secretly glad that Peter didn't apologize. Everybody always apologized.

"They all killed themselves, you see," she added upon finishing her Whiskey Sour.

"All of them?" Peter looked at Lucy. She nodded.

"I had a suicidal family. Well," she paused, "except for my eldest brother, Eli. He just died."

"How did he die?" Peter asked in morbid fascination.

"I don't know," she said, "I only know that it had something to do with a pigeon, a shotgun, and a trampoline. I think he lost his head."

Lucy set her empty glass down by her feet.

"Anyway, what's your name?" she asked, looking at Peter.

Surprised, he answered, "Peter. Peter John Horn. This is my house."

Lucy nodded sagely and then asked, "Why were you so mean earlier?"

Peter took a sip of his drink and decided not to respond. Instead he adjusted his tie.

"Do you like being mean?"

Again Peter gave no answer.

"That's alright. I still think your nice."

Lucy bent down to adjust her left sock, and when she came up, a thin lock of her brown hair was stuck to her top lip. Peter stared at Lucy and then reached out and pulled the hair from her face.

They looked at each other without speaking for nearly forty six seconds. They had just made it to forty five seconds when a knock came at the door.

"Elaine? Are you in there? We have to go."

Lucy jumped up and looked at the door. She reminded Peter of a hare he'd once shot, skinned, gutted and eaten on a camping trip when he was nine. Her eyes were wide and brown.

"Bye, Lucy." He waved.

Without a word she spun on her heels, her short pink dress with the three white buttons lifting a little in her determination, leaned in close, and kissed Peter once on the lips.

"I saw you step on all those ladies' toes," she whispered hurriedly.

Peter was too stunned to respond and before he knew it, the door was open and Lucy was walking down the hall with a woman he knew by the name of Mrs. Lesley Smith.

She was the wife of a big Producer for The Pictures. His name was Mr. Lester Smith.

Lucy had smelled like Whiskey and perfume.

"Adopted," Peter murmured.

He finished his drink.

He would not see Lucy Smith again for three years, but that night Peter Horn did four things.

One. He agreed to accept a position at his father's company after graduating from The University.

Two. He told his little brother that he would dangle him by his ankles off of the roof if he entered his room again. When Junior asked him why, Peter said it was because he hated him.

Three. He masturbated to thoughts of Lucy Smith in her little pink dress with the three white buttons.

Four. He washed his hands vigorously.

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Part II.

_[The Moon] on the Lake_

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Thank you for reading! Please review!


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